


Stand By Your Man

by lindalamoon



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Closeted Character, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, On Set
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindalamoon/pseuds/lindalamoon
Summary: Jensen finds very obvious bruises on Misha and assumes his boyfriend has been cheating on him. Again.He storms out - and Misha never gets the chance to explain what ordeal he just went through.This is a fill for a prompt on spnkink_meme.The original prompt can be found here:https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/127088.html?thread=44165488#t44165488





	1. Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of a personal challenge. I needed to prove to myself that I could write something short; something where I didn’t keep on increasing the chapter count with each update.
> 
> Also, I feel like I owe Misha Collins an apology for what is being done to him in this story.  
>  _I’m really sorry._

“There’s the little fag.”  
That was all the warning Misha got before he felt himself grabbed from behind.  
He stumbled backwards and felt strong hands on his arms, and for a moment he thought that maybe Jensen or Jared were pulling some kind of prank on him.  
He realized how wrong he was when he was shoved against the brick wall with so much force that he let out a painful “Oomph” as he felt the air being driven from his lungs. Jared wouldn’t hurt him as part of a joke, and Jensen… would never do something like this. 

He pushed back off the wall, trying to turn around only to be immediately shoved forward again, the brick colliding painfully with his ribs for a second time.  
Immediately someone pressed up behind him, pinning him to the wall, one hand gripping his hair tightly. His head was turned to the side, and the man kept just outside of his field of vision, so he couldn’t see his attackers face. But he smelled sweat and cigarette smoke. And whoever he was, he was clearly more than a whole head taller than him.  
He began struggling regardless.

“What the hell. Let me go.”  
He tried to use his arm to push of the wall just to have it snatched and painfully twisted behind his back. He let out a yelp of pain.  
“Ah!”  
The fingers on his arm dug deep enough to leave bruises, and his arm felt like it was about to snap.  
“Nah ah, you better be a good little boy.” came a sharp warning from behind him.  
The burly man stepped even closer, leaning more of his weight on him. 

The man brought his lips close to his ears and the stench of cigarettes on his breath became almost unbearable.  
“Unless you want me to spill the beans about your little secret. Would make a nice headline, wouldn’t it? Supernatural star secretly gay.”  
“You’re too late.” he pressed out, his nose pressed uncomfortably against the wall.  
“Everybody knows I’m gay. I came out two years ago.”  
“I’m not talking about you, you slut. I’m talking about your boyfriend.”

Misha clenched his teeth and quickly feigned ignorance.  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have a boyfrie… ah!”  
His defiance earned him a knee into his left thigh that made would have made him crumble if he hadn’t been completely pinned down. Even the tiny movement shot stabs of pain up his arm. He felt like the bones were about to jump out of their sockets.  
“Don’t play dumb, you little cock sucker. I know what Ackles and you do behind that trailer door.”  
Misha blinked in surprise. How had anybody found out? They were extremely careful. Jensen never even touched him in public. His shock must have been visible on his face, because he heard the voice snarl close to his ear.  
“Oh yeah, I know.”

The man was standing so close that Misha could feel his lips draw into a smile against his ear lobe. He startled when he felt something poke him at the side of his hip.  
“You and I are going to have a good time.” the voice grunted against him and then, without warning, bit down on his neck. Misha let out a gasp of pain and started squirming, but he couldn’t get away.  
Finally the man released his skin from his teeth. The spot hurt so bad that Misha half expected blood to trickle down his neck.

The hand on his face disappeared and a second later he felt his shirt being tugged up. Still pinned tightly between the bricks and the entire length of the man, Misha felt like a puppet that was being undressed.  
The man shifted behind him and the pressure on his hips eased just enough for the man to reach around him with his free hand and shove it forcefully down his pants, squeezing and groping him without much consideration of how much it hurt.  
“Ow. Stop. Stop!”  
“Admit it, you like it rough, you little slut.”  
The man rolled his hips forward again, and his erection pressed into his behind. 

“No! Stop it! I’ll scream!”  
“No you won’t. Not if you want me to keep this secret to myself.”  
Misha tentatively pulled on his arms. Maybe he could get the guy of balance and make a run for it. Using his entire weight, he bucked backwards, trying to shove the man away. He might as well have tried to push against a solid wall.  
“Let me go. Tell whoever you want, no one will believe you. No one will care.” 

“Oh no. They might not care about _you_. You’re just a side character. But one of the two main stars gay? Oh, the press will have a field day. The studio might even decide to replace him, seeing that he’ll no longer be interesting to the female audience.”  
Misha stilled, a shiver running down his spine. The studio wouldn’t fire Jensen. Or would they? He wasn’t entirely sure. The Supernatural fanbase was in large parts female, after all. They could easily bring in someone new and decrease Dean’s presence on the show. Give him less and less scenes each episode, fade him out slowly. Could he risk it?  
“That’s right. You’ll behave and do everything I say.”  
The brute was clearly pleased he’d stopped struggling.  
He felt a hand on his head, raking through his hair and pushing him against the wall. The bricks’ rough surface rubbed painfully against his cheek.

“Close your eyes and turn around. Get on your knees.”  
Misha hesitated.  
“If you want me to keep my mouth shut, you better be a good little slut and do as you’re told.” came the warning snarl next to his ear.  
Misha closed his eyes, his decision made. Even if the studio didn’t write Jensen off the show, being outed like that would have reprecussions for his entire career. He couldn’t do that to Jensen.  
With a feeling like he was being gutted, he turned and sank to his knees.  
“Good boy. And you’re going to keep your eyes closed if you know what’s good for you.”  
The guy positioned himself over him and Misha heard a zipper being pulled down. He felt his stomach give a nervous lurch. He couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Even though he knew it was coming, he couldn’t help but flinch when he felt something fleshy and hard pressing against his lips.  
“Come on. Open up that fuck hole.”  
Misha swallowed hard, let out a shaly breath, and then obediently opened his mouth.

Immediately the man pushed forward, shoving his cock deep inside, hitting the back of his throat. Misha instinctively jerked backwards. His head collided painfully with the brick wall behind him. At once he felt a hand grip him tightly by the hair, pulling him back forward and driving the dick back into him.  
“Take it all, bitch.”  
He started gagging violently, and panicked, feeling trapped between the wall and the hand in his hair pulling him forward. He couldn’t breathe, and he felt like he was going to be ill. But after a moment the man started moving and he was able to suck in small gasps or air each time he pulled out.

His hands came up, fumbling his assaulter’s front trying to get a grip on his hips to steady himself.  
“Hands down!” came a sharp command from above. “You’re going to take what I give you.”  
Misha had to force his hands down, fighting his reflex to protect himself, balling them into fists by his side.  
Instead he tried to focus on keeping his eyes squeezed shut and focussing on matching the brtual rythm enough to not get hurt. His stomach convulsed in an attempt to dry heave at the revolting taste in his mouth.

From above him he heard a groan.  
“That’s one fine mouth you have.” The voice was thick with arousal.  
“Is this how you suck his dick too?” the brute sneered and sped up his pace even more.  
Misha couldn’t have replied if he wanted to. Cruel fingers raked through his hair, tightening painfully and pulling him forward onto the cock and yanking him backwards and banging his head against the wall in a merciless pace. All under a constant string of growing moans from the man towering over him.

“That’s right. Keep those eyes closed and that mouth wide open.”  
Misha squeezed his eyes shut tighter, not daring to upset the man.  
He hurt all over. His jaw ached, his scalp was screaming where his hair was being torn from it, and he felt a bruise forming on the back of his head where he hit the brick wall with every one of the man’s thrusts.  
“Gah!” the guy grunted after a particularly deep thrust. “You’re quite the little cock slut, aren’t you?”  
Misha lost all sense of time, and he could focus on nothing but the struggle to keep himself from gagging and getting enough breath into his lungs to not pass out.

Finally the grunts above him started to change, growing heavier, more urgent. The man picked up the pace even more, thrusting so deep into Misha’s mouth that he felt him actually going down his throat. He gagged, sputtered and gasped for air. And then he felt hot, bitter cum shooting down his throat.  
“That’s right you dirty fag. Gag on my cum.” the man spat.  
It seemed to last forever. When he finally pulled out, Misha gasped for air. He fell forward to his hands and sputtered, every cough splattering drops of cum from his mouth onto the pavement as he tried to catch a breath.

Somewhere above him a zipper was closed, and then he heard footsteps walking away. He waited where he was, not daring to open his eyes until they had completely disappeared and he was sure he was alone.  
He let out a long, shaky breath.

Had that really just happened?

For a moment he thought he was going to be sick right there. But after a few deep breaths the nausea receeded enough for him to sit up. He swallowed and cringed at the bitter taste in his throat. His ribs ached. A look down his front through the neck opening of his shirt showed him that bruises had already started to form on his torso. He quickly tugged in his shirt again and straightened it out, buttoning it all the way up to the collar. He winced as the fabric touched the bite mark on his neck, and hastily to a look around to make sure no one had seen him. He was still alone. Shakily he got to his feet, leaning one arm against the wall for support.

He had to get away. Just.. away from here.

His trailer was all the way on the other side of the lot. He’d have to walk a lot farther than he was certain his legs would carry him right now.  
Jensen’s trailer was closer, just around the corner of the building. Misha really didn’t feel like seeing him. He just wanted to be alone. He needed a shower. He needed to process this. He needed some time.  
But his trailer was so far away and the lot was full of people. He didn’t think he could bear being seen by anyone. With another sickening shock to his stomach he realized he’d never seen his attacker. He couldn’t identify him. He might be walking right past him and never know.  
He couldn’t stand the thought.

Jensen was going to be on set for another few hours. His trailer would be empty. He just had to make sure no one saw him. Almost in a stupor, as if on autopilot, he crept around the building, silently thankful that he encountered no one on his way.  
He quickly ducked into the trailer and locked the door behind him. With a sigh let himself fall against it from the inside, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Well, hello sexy. What a nice surprise!”

The sound of Jensen’s voice made him tear open his eyes again.  
Jensen sat on the couch and beamed up at him. He dropped the script he’d been reading on the table and made an inviting gesture to join him.  
“I didn’t know you were going to be here. I really - I just..” Misha started and stopped again, swallowing. His throat was raw and hurt, and hearing the hoarseness in his own voice surprised him.

“Shooting got postponed to tomorrow.”  
Jensen smiled. “And now I’m really glad it did.” he added with a wink.  
He reached out, grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the couch next to him. Stiffly Misha sat down. Carefully he extracted his wrist and tugged it in against his front. It was the same one that the parking lot man had twisted behind his back. He swallowed hard. He didn’t feel like he was ready to deal with any other person right now, even if it was Jensen.  
“What’s up? You look a little off.”

“I just..” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to calm his thoughts enough to speak.  
“I don’t feel like talking right now.”  
Even pressing out these few, raspy words cost him almost more willpower than he could muster. He felt overwhelmed. His throat ached. If only there was some kind of way he could tell Jensen how awful he felt without actually having to physically speak. 

“That’s ok, I have other things I want to do to that mouth anyway.” Jensen said in a voice that under any other circumstance would have made Misha blush and smile and feel all kinds of wonderful things. Now it made a shiver run down his spine.  
He opened his eyes just in time to see him lean in for a kiss.  
In an almost panicky movement, Misha jerked his head away. He needed to brush his teeth. And maybe throw up. But above all, he didn’t want to kiss his boyfriend with the taste of the brute’s cum still in his throat.

"Jensen, I don't feel like that right now. I just need..."  
"Come on, relax with me. I’ve missed you all day."  
He felt his shirt being roughly tugged upwards and out of his pants and involuntarily flinched.

“I... Please… Don’t.”  
Instead of stopping, Jensen swung his leg over him and straddled his lap, reaching for his top button. He raised his hands to stop him, but Jensen quickly wiped them away and pushed the button through the whole.  
“Let me take care of you.”  
“Jensen. Wait -”  
But before he could do anything else to protest, his shirt was pulled open, followed by a sharp inhale. Misha closed his eyes in shame. For a long moment, neither man said anything.

“What the hell is this?”  
He shivered. He couldn’t talk about it. Not yet. He had just wanted some time to himself, to get a grip on things. He wasn’t ready to tell anybody what had happened.  
At the same time he was almost relieved. With Jensen by his side, he knew he could get through this.

He looked up, wanting nothing more than to disappear in his boyfriend's arms, to be held and have Jensen's voice tell him that everything was going to be alright.  
He froze in his seat when he was met with cold eyes and a furious expression.

“I can’t believe you.”  
"Wh-what?" Misha didn’t quite understand why Jensen’s anger was directed at him.  
“That!”  
He pointed a sharp finger at the bruises and the mark on his neck.  
"Is that why you turned me down?"  
Slowly Misha nodded, still confused at the harsh tone.  
"Too exhausted for sex because you already had your fill?"  
Misha was speechless for a moment. Surely Jensen didn't believe he'd done this willingly? His silence must have been misinterpreted as agreement because Jensen jumped up from the couch and shook his head.  
"You promised me, Misha! You promised me it wouldn't happen again."

Finally the penny dropped and he felt a wrenching twist in his gut.

About a year and half ago, they had been to a Supernatural convention in Atlanta. It had been Misha’s first convention after he had come out as gay to the public. The fans had been supportive overall, but the few that disapproved had been very vocal about it, and there had been plenty of verbal attacks. On top of that, he’d had to lie about having a boyfriend over and over again, which had been harder on him than he had expected. By the time the convention came to an end, Misha had been emotionally exhausted.

There had been a party on the last night of their stay, and there had been plenty of alcohol. Most of the night was a blur to him. He remembered a pushy red-head rubbing up against his arm, repeatedly asking him whether he was sure he was really gay. He remembered doing shots, then nothing, and then feeling really good.  
He only had two other memories of that night. One was looking down to find the red-haired woman sitting between his knees, her head bobbing up and down while his cock disappeared inside her mouth. The other was looking up to see Jensen across the room, watching him, betrayal and hurt written all over his face.  
Misha still felt horrible about it to his day. The incident almost cost him the man he loved more than anything in the world. It had taken months before Jensen had trusted him again.

"No! Jensen, I swear. That's not it. It's really, really not. I just.. I didn’t want you to..."  
He sighed and broke off. He couldn’t do this. Not now. He felt too exhausted, too weak, too tired, too everything. Nausea rose in him and he grasped the corner of the couch for support.  
“I can’t do this right now. Please.”  
But Jensen ignored his request.  
"That’s why you didn’t want me taking off you shirt. You just wanted to hide the bruises, to make sure I wouldn't find out."

Misha hated himself for it, but he felt tears well up in his eyes. Jensen still didn’t trust in his love for him. He knew he had to say something, but he was too stunned to even protest and defend himself. The cruel words felt like little knife stabs to his already hurting insides. He was too paralyzed to even answer.  
“So you even admit it.”  
He saw the hurt in Jensen’s eyes but he felt glued to his seat, frozen, staring at his boyfriend with wide eyes. He couldn’t move or say anything. But in his mind he was screaming for help.

He needed comfort, he needed Jensen to make everything better. Instead he now felt even worse. He started shaking slightly, not sure if he could take any more.  
"Please. Listen." he started quietly, shaking his head, unable to put any strength into his words. The room started spinning around him.  
“Fuck, Misha, your lips are even still swollen.”  
All Misha could do was whimper at the harsh memory from the parking lot. He glanced up, trying to find Jensen’s eyes to shoot the man he loved a pleading look, to make him see how much he was hurting, but Jensen didn’t even look at him.

He had reached inside his shirt, grabbing his necklace. The necklace that Misha had given him. The only proof of their relationship that Jensen had ever allowed to be carried outside of the privacy of their trailers. He watched in horror as he gave it a sharp tug. The leather band snapped and and it came lose.  
“I guess this means nothing to you.”

Misha’s mouth felt dry. He wanted to say something, but all that came out was a helpless, hoarse croak. Jensen raised his hands in defeat.

"I'm done. I'm just.. done. I am done believing your bullshit. Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice..."  
And with that he turned and stormed out of the trailer, slamming the door behind him.

Misha stared after him, and started to shake even more. He pressed his lips together and wrapped his arms around himself, as he slid from the couch to the floor.  
Jensen had left him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far!  
> Second chapter is going up next week!


	2. Comfort

Jensen walked fiercly across the studio lot, no particular destination in mind. His insides were boiling. He was angry, no, _beyond_ angry. At the same time, underneath the anger, he felt like crying.

_How could you do that to me? Again? Why can’t I be enough?_

He pushed that aside. He wasn’t some love sick school girl, dammit. A sharp pain in his palm made him look down. He hadn’t even noticed that his fingers had closed into fists. He was still holding the broken necklace in his hand and it had dug itself into the palm of his hand. Angrily he shoved it ito his pocket. Clenching his teeth, he kept walking. He needed to clear his head.

He’d circled the studio lot once when the sound of boastful laughter made him perk up. A group of three stage hands were standing near the back entrance to studio 11. A big, burly man was leaning against the wall, one arm confidently pushed into his side, the other holding the still smoking stub of a cigarette.

“You’re kidding. You and Misha?” one of the other two men asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

“Oh yeah. And I’m telling you, that guy has quite a mouth on him.”

Jensen swallowed. Misha wouldn’t have... - would he?  
He quickly stepped into the shadow of a nearby trailer and listened.

“You’re just making this shit up.” the smaller of the two other guys had crossed his arms in front of his chest and shook his head.

“I’m not. He sucked my cock right behind that building half an hour ago.”

Jensen let out a low growl.  
_A fucking stage hand?!_  
Someone he’d see and have to work with every day? Fury started rising up in him.  
_Fuck you, Misha. Couldn’t you at least have chosen someone from outside the production?_

“No way did he give you a blow job.”

“Sure he did. Guys like him are always hungry for cock.”

“Huh. I actually thought he had a secret boyfriend or something.” the third man chimed in.  
“He always has this goofy smile on his face when he reads his text messages. Like he’s heavily in love.”  
Jensen closed his eyes for a moment and clenched his teeth.  
_Right. For someone in love, he sure sleeps around with other people a lot_.

“Oh, he’s got a boyfriend alright. But these types can never get enough cock. Just too shy to ask for it. But deep down he wants it. You just gotta show him who’s boss.”  
Jensen frowned. That didn’t really sound like Misha. But then he had to remind himself that he’d clearly overestimated how well he knew him. He snorted bitterly and turned to leave. He didn’t want to hear any more of this.

“It’s all about what and who you know. His boyfriend’s still in the closet, see? Just had to remind him to be a good little boy if he wanted it to stay that way.”  
Jensen stopped dead in his tracks, an icy chill freezing every vein in his body.  
_What?_

“That made him quite the obedient little slut.”

From his hiding spot behind the trailer he took another good look at the man. He was his own height, at least, and strongly built, definitely stronger than Misha. The image of Misha in his trailer came rushing back to him. The disheveled hair, the crumpled shirt, the look of horror in his eyes. He thought about the bruises he’d seen on his ribs. Realization hit him and he started to feel sick.  
_Oh God._

Jensen cursed himself. Misha had tried to tell him. He’d tried to tell him what had happened, what had been done to him, but Jensen hadn’t listened and stormed off. His boyfriend had needed him, had come to him for help, and he’d left him alone.

Then another thought dawned on him.  
This was _his_ fault.

Misha had been threatened, been blackmailed into this, been brutalized - but not with something he’d done, but with his, with Jensen’s secret. Misha had come out years ago, and despite some quite heavy backlash, never regretted it. He’d urged Jensen to do the same. Jensen had refused. It was a constant topic of tension between them.

Jensen knew Misha didn’t like hiding their relationship. He knew it made him unhappy that he couldn’t tell the world about them, couldn’t touch him, kiss him or even hold his hand in public.  
But for all his prodding and pleading Misha had always respected his wish to remain in the closet.

Jensen closed his eyes again. He’d been an absolute asshole to Misha, accusing him of horrible things - when in truth the man had done nothing but protect his stupid wish to keep his sexuality and their relationship a secret.  
He had refused to openly stand by the man he loved, and now Misha had gotten hurt because of him.  
_It’s my fault._

The sound of loud voices tore him from his thoughts.  
“You’re full of shit. Tell your made-up stories to someone else.”

He looked up in time to see that the other two stage hands had turned to leave, with irritated expressions on their faces. The burly man shouted after them “Go fuck yourselves, cunts!” and grabbed his groin to accentuate his words.

Jensen was seething, his hands balling into fists on their own. He wanted nothing more than to run over there, break every bone in that guy’s body and beat him into a bloody pulp.  
But at the same time he realized that he’d just left Misha alone when he needed him most. Even worse, he’d basically kicked him when he was down. He needed to go back, find him, and help him in any way he could. Tell him that he’d be ok. Tell him how sorry he was.

He reeled for a moment, torn between what to do first. He knew Misha needed him, but he needed to get rid of this maddening anger inside of him first, or he would be no good to him at all. Decision made, he set his jaw and moved to step out of the shadow, when he halted again.

What was he supposed to do? His intention had been to walk over and punch the guy square in the face for daring to lay a hand on his boyfriend. But then what? The guy would call the police, there’d be a half dozen or so witnesses and he’d be in big trouble. And Misha would be alone. And on top of that the guy was sure to make their secret public then.

With a grunt of frustration he unclenched his fists and forcefully shoved them into his pockets instead, just to do anything at all. That’s when he had the idea.

The stage hand threw down the remainder of his cigarette bud and stomped it out on the pavement. When he looked up, he was surprised to be staring right into Jensen’s very furious face.  
“I know what you did, you asshole.”  
And with that, Jensen stepped forward, and punched him in the gut.

The man in front of him had barely swayed where he stood, as if he had hardly even felt the punch. He snorted in amusement, looked down at his shirt and flicked his fingers at it, as if he was brushing away some dust.  
“Was that the best you got? You’re such a fag that you even hit like a girl.”  
Jensen took a step backwards. The man in front of him started grinning.

“Upset because someone else got a taste of your little slut?”  
“You are never going near Misha again, dickhead.” Jensen pressed out, his face twitching with hatred, but careful to keep his voice down.  
“Come on.” the guy beckoned. “Try hitting me again, you fag. Maybe I’ll actually feel it this time.”

Instead, Jensen took another step backwards, away from him.

“That’s right you little coward.”  
The guy sneered. “You better not mess with-”  
“You’re an asshole!” Jensen barked suddenly, cutting the guy off.

He had been loud enough to turn several heads in their direction. His tone had been accusing and aggressive, the kind that makes people perk up and pay attention. They were being watched now.  
“Oh, you’re insulting me?!”  
Jensen glanced around them and counted the number of eyes on them, and pressed his lips together.

“You want to apologize for that!” the guy roared in an indignant tone - and a bit louder than necessary. The burly man had clearly noticed their quickly growing audience as well, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.  
“The hell I will - you own _me_ an apology!” Jensen shot right back.

“Oh really?” the man sneered and pursed his lips. “And what for, exactly?” His voice sounded mocking and provocative, knowing full well Jensen wouldn’t say _what for_ while they were being watched.

Jensen he clenched his teeth.  
“I’ll make you pay for this.” he muttered under his breath, low enough so that only the brute could hear him this time. The guy hadn’t missed the change in his voice. Another smirk flashed briefly across his face.

“No you won’t. Look around you.”  
Jensen didn’t need to look. He was aware that there were a good dozen people watching them now. The circle around them gradually became smaller as people came closer.  
“You can’t touch me, you little poof. Or everyone will find out that after a long day of filming you like to suck your co-star’s cock.”

Just for the tiniest of moments, Jensen drew his lips into a wicked smile.  
Then he straightened his back, raised his hand and held it out to the man, palm facing up.

“Give it back!” he barked, loud again this time.  
The stagehand in front of him looked at his hand in confusion for a moment, unsure of what to make of it.  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you little shit!”

The anger was practically radiating off of the guy. Jensen figured the crowd was the only thing that kept him from throwing punches his way. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the production assistants approach them with quick steps, a concerned look on his face. He was talking quickly into his phone.

He cocked his head.  
“Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I’m talking about!”  
He pushed his hand forward, holding it out like he expected the guy to give him something.  
The guy still stared at him, irritated.

“I said I have no fucking clue what you have your panties in a bunch about, prick!” he growled, apparently opting for aggression as a best way to deal with his confusion.

Their audience had grown even further. Everyone on the lot and within earshot had stopped what they were doing and was gathering around to see what the commotion was about.  
From the studio entrance he noticed Kelly, one of the studio executives, hurrying towards them as well, two security men in tow.  
He had to give her credit on how fast she managed to cross the entire lot and reach them, while wearing the kind of heels that she did.

“What’s going on here?”  
In her usual manner, she immediately seized control of the situation, planting herself firmly in between the two men. Even though they both were more than a head taller than her, they both took a step backwards  
“Gentlemen, do we have a problem?”

Before anybody else could say anything, Jensen jumped in.  
“Yes, we do. This guy stole from me.” He pointed an accusing finger at the man. Maybe a little childish, but they had an audience, after all.  
Kelly turned to look at the stage hand questioningly.  
“That’s bullshit.” he spat.  
“Don’t deny it. I saw you take it!” Jensen yelled back.

“Gentlemen, please keep your voices under control.”  
Kelly sighed in slight annoyance, as if she was dealing with a pair of upset kindergardeners.

Apparently the brute had exhausted his vocabulary of swear words.  
“It’s total bullshit.” he repeated, though decidedly less loud. Kelly had that effect on everyone.

“Why would I want anything from you? I’m not one of your stupid fans.”  
“I don’t know, to sell it on eBay, I guess. Padding up your income. This happens all the time.”  
The brute stared at him blankly, clearly unsure of what to say.

Kelly sighed.  
“Well, there’s a fairly quick way to resolve this.”  
She turned to the stage hand.  
“Barley? I’m sorry, but I’m going to ask Trevor to pat you down.” she said, pointing to one of the security guards.

A confident smile on his face, Barley lifted his arms while Trevor stepped behind him and searched him. One by one he fished a cellphone, a set of car keys and an employee badge from of his pockets and handed it to Kelly.  
“Everything on me is mine.” Barley snarled, shooting a triumphant look at Jensen.  
“That’s all.” Trevor said.  
Barley snorted.

“No wait, there’s one more thing in here.”  
The security guard retreated his hand from the jacket and handed something small to Kelly, a little silver medallion on a broken leather strap.

Kelly looked at it for a moment then held it up accusingly. “So this is yours?”  
Barley looked at the necklace in complete and utter confusion.  
“It has an engraving on the back.” She turned the medallion over and read aloud. “To Jensen, Love Always, M.”  
“That’s not mine. I mean, I’ve never seen that before.”  
“Ok, so you agree that it’s not yours. May I ask how it found its way into your pocket?”  
Her voice sounded a lot cooler now than it had a second ago.

Barley’s eyes snapped to face him, but Jensen kept his face perfectly netural.

“He planted it when he punched me.”  
“He punched you? Is that true? Are you hurt?” Kelly asked, there seemed to be actual concern in her voice.  
“Oh come on, I didn’t touch you!” Jensen groaned in disbelief.  
“Did anybody see him punch him?” she asked aloud, looking around.  
People around them started shaking their heads. Someone shouted that Jensen had been standing at least an arms length away from Barley the entire time.

“Barley, this is a serious accusation. Can you prove this? Is there a bruise you can show us?”  
The man’s face fell. Jensen had to fight to keep his lips from twitching upwards.  
“I.. I don’t bruise that easily.” he started. When he saw the epxression on Kelly’s face change to an annoyed frown he quickly added “But he _did_ hit me. Punched me right in the gut. Not my fault he punches like a girl.”

“Trust me, if I punched you, you’d be on the floor, bleeding.” Jensen snorted.  
Kelly turned and looked Jensen up and down for a moment, raising an eyebrow as if to make a point. Jensen secretly smiled at himself. He was wearing one of his tight fitting T-shirts, the sleeves ending just above his biceps, showing off his muscles rather well.  
“Right.” Kelly sighed and turned back to the stage hand, her voice leaving no doubt what she thought of this accusation.

“Barley, we have a zero tolerance policy for theft here. Your employment is terminated immediately. I will keep your badge. Take the rest of your things and then these two gentlemen will escort you off the premises.”  
Bristling with anger, Barley started stuffing his belongings back into his pockets. He gave a snort. “I have an appointment with a couple of reporters, anyway.”  
He shot Jensen a glaring stare, but only earned an indifferent shrug in response.

“Kelly, could I please have my necklace back?”  
“Sure.” she smiled apologetically. “That’s a cute engraving. I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”  
“I don’t.” Jensen said loudly, making sure his voice could be heard by everyone. “It’s from my boyfriend. It’s from Misha.”

In an instant, everyone around them fell silent, staring at him, even the two security men stopped in their tracks to gape at him.

“Yes, you heard that right. I’m gay. Misha is my boyfriend. He’s the man I love and who loves me more than I deserve.“  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw at least one person who’d held his phone up a little too vertially, clearly recording the whole thing. The headlines of the local gossip magazines for tomorrow were easy to guess.  
His secret was out. Everyone would know. He had expected to feel anxcious, but to his surprise found that he didn’t. In fact, he felt relieved.  
He should have done this a long time ago.

Kelly was the first to catch herself again.  
“Ok, show’s over, everyone. Get back to work.” she turned and started shooing away the crowd who reluctantly dispersed.  
Jensen placed the necklace back in his pocket and turned to leave as well. He didn’t even glance back to take a look at the disgruntled Barley who was being escorted of the premises while emitting a string of curses and insults.

He more ran than walked back to the trailer, only keeping from rightout sprinting because he knew he was still being watched. He didn’t want to give the impression that he felt the need to flee right after confessing he was gay and in a relationship. So he paced his steps grudgingly for the benefit of the onlookers until he’d made it to his trailer.

Once inside he panicked for a moment when he didn’t see Misha on the couch where he’d left him. Then he heard the sound of the shower in the bathroom.  
He knocked and waited, but there was no answer. He hesitated, unsure whether Misha would even want to see him. After a moment of uncertainty, he decided that he had to at least make sure he was OK, so he opened the door and slipped inside. What he saw almost made his heart break.

Misha had crumpled to the bottom of the shower, sitting on the plastic flooring. His knees were drawn up to his chin and he had his arms wrapped around his legs.  
His eyes were wide open, but they were out of focus and he was just staring blankly ahead into nothingness. Jensen wasn’t sure he’d even noticed him stepping in.

“Misha?”

The figure on the floor gave no indication he’d even heard him, but Jensen noticed that he was shaking back and forth. Tentatively he leaned forward and held his hand out under the stream. The water had run cold, probably a while ago. He hurried to turn it off and went to grab the biggest towel he had from the rack. When he returned Misha hadn’t moved an inch.

He knelt down and carefully wrapped the towel around him. As soon as he touched him, Misha flinched away. His eyes shot up and he looked up at him in confusion, as if he’d only just noticed his presence. Jensen could see that his eyes were red and bloodshot.

“Jensen.” he said in a barely audible whisper. Then the words came gushing out of him.  
“I didn’t cheat. I swear. Please believe me. I didn’t. I would never. Please believe me.”  
Jensen pulled him closer, into his arms and was relieved that he didn’t jerk away from him again. He buried his head in his wet hair and held him tight.  
“Shh. It’s ok.”  
“I didn’t cheat. I promise.” Misha sobbed against his chest.  
“I know.”  
“You believe me?”  
“Yes. And I’m sorry I didn’t before. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

He heard Misha sigh and felt his body relax against him. He felt fingers burrow deep into his shirt, so desperately tight as if they were clinging to a lifeline.  
“I took care of it. You’ll never have to see that guy again.”  
He rubbed his back and pulled him even closer against him.  
“I’m here. And it’s all going to be ok.”


End file.
